But It Wasn't Just Jealousy
by SquishyCool
Summary: When anger takes over, it's not just about jealousy anymore. A 4-part Spam story; warnings and A/N inside. Also Carly/OMC, Sam/OMC, and Spencer/OFC. If you've liked any of my past Spam stories, you should like this. Give it a try.
1. Spencer

**A/N:** This is a 4-part story that I wrote in less than a week. I'll be posting a new chapter every other day until it's all posted. I don't remember where the idea came from, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I think if you've liked any of my past Spam stories, you should like this one. **Warnings include:** sexual reference (no actual sex scenes, though), teenage alcohol use, some cussing, and violence.  
Part 1 is in Spencer's point of view. Heather is my own original character, so if for some reason you'd ever want to use her, ask me first. If you read, please review and let me know what you think!

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**But It Wasn't Just Jealousy  
Part 1**

I've never really been the jealous type. I'm not sure why, but I'm just not that sensitive about that sort of thing. Like, if I had a girlfriend, and she cheated on me, yeah, I'd be upset, and we'd break up, but I'd get over it pretty quickly. I guess I just never cared much. Or maybe I never found a girl I really cared that much about…

When Sam and I realized we liked each other (subsequent to our first _sudden_ kiss), it was awkward at first. What were we supposed to do? She was so much younger than me, and I was her best friend's big brother. Likewise, she was my little sister's best friend. How would we explain to anyone if we started dating?

But she insisted that I wasn't like any other guy she'd ever met, and she liked me more than she ever realized. She told me I was her only hope. She said that, besides Carly, I was what kept her hanging onto that last string of sanity. I believed her, because, you know what? I felt the same way. I felt like I could connect with Sam like I couldn't connect with anyone else, and I always had so much fun just being around her. She made me feel so good about myself, which was something I'd never gotten from any of my past girlfriends. We seemed to understand each other so well and have so much fun together; we complemented each other, I guess you could say. So I was willing to take the chance and jump into this with her.

_Because,_ I thought_, She's worth it all._

We waited until she was 18, because she was afraid of getting me in trouble. She'd seen her dad go to prison, and of course, her mom had gone to jail plenty of times, and she didn't want to see that happen to me, too. It was understandable. We were practically dating for like, six months before her birthday, but we didn't make it official or let anyone else know until after her birthday. We did, however, fall in love fast.

I'd wanted to get Sam something to represent our relationship for the longest time. So, for her birthday, I spent what was left of the money I'd earned from the last sculpture I made on a real silver necklace. It had a small outline of a heart hanging from it: half of the heart was plain silver, but the other half was made up of five real diamonds. I was pretty proud of it when I gave it to her, and she seemed very happy with it. She wore it all the time, and I never saw her take it off. It reminded me of her – half regular, imperfect silver, and half diamonds, shining in beauty and perfection. I thought it fit her perfectly.

Sam and Carly were almost done with their junior year (Sam had been held back a year in kindergarten or first grade or something, before she met Carly, so she was a year older than everyone else in her class). Carly, Sam, and Freddie had retired iCarly after their freshman year. It was too stressful on them to have the webshow and school and homework to worry about, not to mention the jobs Carly and Freddie were planning on getting as soon as they turned 16. But they were still really good kids, and when Carly wanted to start going out to parties and whatnot, I let her. It wasn't like I hadn't been a teenager just about 10 years before, so I related a little more to the kids. I set reasonable rules, and they followed them. I hadn't had to ground Carly more than twice since she started high school! Which, if I say so myself, is pretty darn good.

Of course, wherever Carly goes, Sam is sure to follow. So, whenever she went out to these parties, Sam went, too. (Freddie's mom absolutely forbade him to attend a teenage party that she couldn't chauffeur him to, so he usually stayed home on weekend nights, or came to hang with me at the loft.) I got a little more worried about her, because I considered her mine now, and I knew how teenage boys could be, especially on alcohol. Carly didn't like to drink, so I knew she was keeping a good eye on Sam. However, Sam _will_ do what she wants, when she wants, and she won't let anything or any_one_ stop her, not even Carly. Plus, she liked to drink at most of these parties. So, about every other weekend, I found myself sitting at home, watching TV or working on a sculpture, with nothing but Sam and Carly on my mind. I was constantly wondering what Sam was doing, and whether Carly was keeping her safe, and vise versa.

On this particular Friday night, I was hard at work on a sculpture that had to be finished by Monday, which I was supposed to be paid $50,000 for. Sam was lounging on the couch, snacking on whatever food we had left and watching TV, while Carly was upstairs showering and getting ready to go out to another party she'd been invited to.

"I'm almost ready, I'll be down in a minute!" Carly called from the top of the stairs.

I looked over at Sam with my hot glue gun in hand to see her setting the empty chip bag on the coffee table and standing up to stretch.

"When do you think you guys will be back?" I asked, glancing at a clock to see it was a little past seven.

Sam shrugged. "Not sure. Before three, probably, but I dunno. I'll call you if you want."

She walked up to me and gave me a kiss on the lips, and I nodded. "Okay, sounds good. If you need a ride or something, call me. And Carly better not come back without you."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. I always teased her like this before she went out, even though I really was worried about her. "Yes, _Dad_, don't worry."

I chuckled. "You probably shouldn't call me that. It's pretty creepy."

She laughed, then wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I hugged her back, holding my hot glue gun away from her. She'd grown a few inches over the past couple of years, so she wasn't quite as short as she used to be, but I still nearly towered over her.

I still got butterflies in my stomach when I held her in my arms, though. I swear, every time.

When she let go, she looked up at me, and I leaned down and kissed her again.

"Are you staying the night again?" I asked her.

She nodded, giving me a 'duh' look. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I was just wondering…"

She smiled again and gave me another hug, this time muttering, "I love you."

I hugged her back, smiling. "I love you, too."

Just then, we heard Carly coming down the stairs, so we let go of each other and turned to look. She was wearing casual jeans and a hoodie over her T-shirt, and her hair was perfectly straightened and fell over her shoulders. She'd started wearing makeup like, right after middle school, and I still wasn't really used to it. It was just weird to see my baby sister growing up so fast.

"Ready, Sam?" she asked, picking up her purse from the kitchen counter and joining us where we stood.

Sam nodded. "Yep. Let's go!"

She had been holding onto my free hand, and now she squeezed it before letting it slip out of hers as she walked away to the door.

"You two be careful," I reminded Carly. "Drive the speed limit, use your signals – do you have your license on you?"

Carly rolled her eyes with a smile. "Yes, Spencer. And we'll be back before…?"

I shrugged. "Before three, please. And if you're not here by then, I'll be calling your cell phone like a madman."

She giggled. "Okay. We'll see you later then."

I nodded and watched her join Sam at the door, who held it open for her before walking out of it herself.

"See you later, girls. Safety first!" I called out jokingly, reminding them. I heard them laugh and I smiled to myself.

Before Sam closed the door behind her, she stuck her head back in and called to me with a smile, "Bye, Spence!"

I smiled back to her, then watched the door shut. As soon as I heard their voices fade down the hall, I leaned back down to my sculpture and got to work on it again, gluing my fingers together numerous times. I'm not the most coordinated artist, but hey, whatever.

I was walking around my sculpture to the pile of supplies I had on the floor, about to pick something else up, when I heard a knock on the door. I stood up straight and looked towards it, then looked at the clock: 8:35. I hadn't even realized I'd been working for that long.

I looked down at my hands, which were very sticky at this point and a little paint splattered, so I grabbed up a hand towel from the kitchen and wiped them as I headed for the door. When I opened it, towel still in hand, I found a very attractive brunette woman staring back at me with big, round, green eyes, her face glowing with full, deep red, glossy lips curved into a smile.

"Hi," she greeted.

I stared for a moment, my mind going blank. I forced myself back to reality, and quickly stammered, "H-hi. Can I help you…?"

She held out her hand, which I saw had perfectly manicured nails painted red. I took it in mine and gently shook it in greeting. "I'm Heather. I just moved into the apartment next door – " she pointed with her other hand toward the door a few feet down, which had been an empty apartment for about a year, until now. " – and I know it's kind of late, but almost all of my food is still being stored at my mom's, so I was wondering if I could borrow some milk?"

I raised my eyebrows, the warmth of her hand in mine giving my arm goose bumps. "Oh, I'm Spencer… Um, sure, no problem. Why don't you come in?"

We let go of each other's hands and I moved aside, waiting for her to step inside of the apartment, her black heels clicking on the wood floor, before I shut the door. I couldn't help it – I was very much checking her out. She was about Sam's height, and wore a pair of tight jeans, which accentuated her perfect curves, and casual, black heels - which meant she was actually probably a little bit shorter than Sam - with a tight white shirt underneath the fitted black jacket, the sleeves of which stopped halfway down her forearms. Her silky, straight, brown hair fell over her shoulders just right, and her green eyes, outlined in dark eyeliner and light, pink eyeshadow, were looking around the loft, inspecting it. Her long, black lashes fluttered over her eyes every time she blinked. The white shirt she had on was low-cut, and I couldn't help but glance at the bit of cleavage that was showing above her half-zipped jacket.

After checking her out, I realized I looked like crap at the time. I was wearing an old, stained shirt to sculpt in, and some very worn jeans, and my house slippers… I was in my "nobody's coming over, I'm not going out anywhere, therefore there is no reason to put on something clean" outfit. This made me feel much more awkward than usual.

She looked back over at me, still smiling. "You have a very interesting place here, Spencer."

My name was like silk coming out of her mouth.

I smiled back as well as I could. "Thanks. It's not much, but I like it, and my little sister seems to be okay with it… So how much milk do you need?"

I started walking towards the kitchen, tossing the hand towel back onto the counter.

"Um, just a cup or so. I just wanted some cereal," she answered before casually changing the subject. "So, you have a little sister?"

I nodded as I opened the fridge, reaching in and pulling the milk jug out, then setting it on the counter and closing the fridge door again. I turned around, twisting the lid off. "Yeah. She's seventeen. I've been her legal guardian since she was thirteen… Our dad's in the Navy and won't be back home for a while, so I volunteered to take care of her."

I looked over to see Heather raising her sculpted and arched eyebrows in interest. "Oh? Well that's so sweet of you. What a good big brother… How many years older than her are you?"

"Twelve," I answered, retrieving a measuring cup from the cupboard and setting it on the counter, then carefully pouring the milk into it. "She's about to finish her junior year of high school… She grew up so fast."

"Yeah, they tend to do that," she said. "And what about your mother? Why didn't she take her?"

I frowned a bit, then shrugged, finishing pouring the milk in and twisting the lid back onto the jug. "She uh… hasn't been around for a while now."

Heather's eyes widened, and her voice got quieter. "Oh… I'm sorry I asked. I'm being so nosey…"

I shook my head, smiling at her reassuringly before I put the milk back into the fridge. "No, it's okay. It's better than standing here talking about the weather or something. So, what made you move here? Did you and your boyfriend move in or something?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no, no. I'm _very_ single now… I just wanted my own little place, and this apartment seemed nice. The building seems really cozy, and besides the rude doorman downstairs, I've found everyone to be really nice so far."

I chuckled. "Oh, yeah, that's Lewbert. Don't worry about him. He's rude and obnoxious and gross… No one cares for him much. My sister actually used to mess with him all the time. One time, she actually blew that huge wart right off his face!"

I laughed at the memory, and Heather laughed. "Oh, wow. I'd love to see that!"

I nodded, then brought the cup of milk over and handed it to her. "Yeah, it was pretty funny… Anyway, here's your milk. If you need anything else – "

"Actually," she interrupted, taking the milk from me. "I'm pretty bored and lonely over there all by myself… I haven't gotten my cable or internet turned on yet, or even my water… Would you mind if I hung out with you? If you're busy, I understand. I don't want to invite myself over or anything…"

I shook my head. "No, no, that'd be fine. I was just working on my sculpture," I gestured towards the sculpture sitting on the floor behind me. "But you can hang out here and watch TV or use our computer or something. If you need to shower or something, that'd be fine, too. I'm alone for most of the night, so it wouldn't really bother me."

She smiled, pleased. "Alright, cool. Well, I'm gonna go eat my bowl of cereal, and then I'll be back over. Is that okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll be here!"

She giggled, looking up at me with seductive green eyes. "Okay, see ya soon."

I waved as she turned around and left the loft, cup of milk in hand. When the door shut, I let out a deep breath of relief.

"Wow…" I muttered to myself.

When I gained back my composure, I ran to the kitchen sink and washed my hands, drying them quickly. I then ran to my bedroom and grabbed a clean shirt and a clean pair of jeans and threw them on, spraying on some body spray. I ditched my house slippers, but didn't bother putting on shoes, so I just left my socks on. I ran my hands through my hair, making sure it wasn't greasy or spiking up, and smoothed it down more, then inhaled deeply. I wasn't sure what I was doing… All I knew was that I didn't want this girl to think I was some gross slob.

_That's it,_ I thought to myself, walking back out into the living room. _I just want to impress her so she doesn't think everyone in Bushwell is a bunch of slobs and spazzes. First impressions are everything, after all. She's my new neighbor, so it matters._

I was trying to convince myself that that was the reason more than anything. I had been thinking about Sam the whole time, knowing I really cared about her and loved her and didn't even want any other girl… but I couldn't help myself - Heather was just so… _hot_!

Just as I was tossing the pillows around on the couch, trying to make it look better, there was another knock on the door.

"Come in!" I called, standing up straight and facing the door, watching it open slowly.

The voluptuous brunette's black heels clicked as she took a few steps inside, then her body emerged from behind the door. She looked at me curiously, then grinned, shutting the door. "Hey!"

"How was the cereal?" I asked.

"Pretty delicious," she stated, putting a hand on her flat stomach and patting it with a smile. "Are you sure I'm not bothering you?"

My eyebrows scrunched together. "No, not at all! Seriously, I have to have this sculpture done by Monday, and I'm already like, eighty percent done. So it's no problem."

"Alright then," she said, pleased. She glanced at the couch. "Mind if I have a seat?"

I gestured towards the open seating. "Of course, make yourself at home! Heh, my apartment seems to be everyone's second home, so you might as well join in."

She giggled, carefully sitting down on the couch, barely even startling the cushions with her light weight. She sat up straight, her legs kept close together and her hands resting on her lap. She looked up at me and smiled. "You wanna watch a movie or something?"

I glanced at the TV, which Sam had left on a marathon of _Extreme Housewives_, then nodded. "Sure. What do you like?"

She shrugged, making a cute carefree face. "Just about everything… My favorites are horrors… Something _scary_."

"Alright," I said, then leaned down and opened the cabinet below the TV and started rummaging around the collection of DVD's. When I finally found a horror, _Kansas Axe Massacre_, I took it out of the case and put it in the DVD player, then played the movie before joining Heather on the couch. I put my feet up on the coffee table as the horror movie began, looking over at her.

"You should turn the lights off," she said quietly. "It'll make it better."

"That sounds like a good idea," I agreed, and got up to shut off the lights in the loft. When everything went dark around me, except for the glow of the TV that lit the couch and Heather, I went back and sat down, putting my feet up again.

"I love it like this," she added, sounding anxious. "It makes it so much scarier."

I nodded in agreement.

The beginning of the movie wasn't that scary, but as it went on, just about every other scene was making Heather jump. I'll admit, I had to restrain from jumping myself; I hadn't watched that movie in a while, and the darkness around me made every loud sound way more startling. But just past halfway into the movie, I noticed Heather scooting closer and closer to me, until the half of a cushion that separated us before was no more than a very small section of a cushion. I watched her from the corner of my eye, not really paying attention to the bloody scenes anymore. Her eyes seemed to be intently glued on the TV screen, but every now and then, I could've sworn I saw them glance over in my direction.

Once I had gotten back into the movie, I tried to ignore the awkward closeness of her body. But when the murderer jumped out from behind a hanging piece of meat in a factory, Heather jumped, and her hands suddenly reached over and grasped onto my arm. She leaned in to me, still holding onto my arm tightly. I froze, startled at this.

Was she coming onto me?

I sat there, still frozen, and tried not to react to her movements and advancements. But it was about impossible. I wasn't even paying attention to the TV anymore, because my mind was stuck on the incredibly attractive brunette currently clutching onto my arm.

It took me about 10 minutes of contemplating, but when I finally mustered up the courage, I turned my head to ask her if she wanted some popcorn or chips or a Peppy Cola. However, before I could even get a word out of my open mouth, her full, red lips were suddenly on mine.

I made a sound of objection from the back of my throat and quickly pushed her away, immediately thinking of Sam. I scooted to the other end of the couch and stared at Heather in shock, my mouth still partly open. She stared back with a questioning, disappointed look on her face, like a child who'd just gotten in trouble for stealing a cookie before dinner.

"Um… what…"

Before I could form a whole sentence, she started explaining in an anxious, hurried voice. "I'm sorry, Spencer… I-I didn't know you didn't like me. I just… I've been so lonely lately, and you're _so_ cute and funny, and just…"

I stared at her with the same wide, shocked eyes. What in the crap was she getting at?

"It's not like I don't _like_ you, it's just… I have a girlfriend, see, and… I don't think this would be very right," I muttered, adding an awkward and nervous chuckle at the end, but secretly not wanting to push away the possibility of her.

She parted her lips, her eyes growing wider and sadder. If I didn't know any better, I would have said she was giving me the puppy dog eyes to try and persuade me to see things her way. "Oh…"

I averted my eyes for a moment before bringing them back to her. "Yeah…"

We both sat still and silent for some time, not even noticing the movie that was still playing on the TV, its light effects flickering off of our faces. I didn't know what to do next… tell her to leave? Tell her I accepted her apology? Offer her popcorn?

While I was contemplating the options inside my head, she was slowly moving closer across the couch. When she reached me, she sat up on her knees, making herself taller than me, and without warning, took the sides of my face in her manicured hands and leaned down to put her mouth on mine once more. This time, however, my hormones couldn't resist her full lips, and I kissed back, taking in the taste of her cherry lip gloss. Even though I knew I could overtake her, it was like her hands had complete control of me, and I couldn't fight them off. I was ashamed of myself afterwards, but at the moment, I was turned on.

Who did this girl think she was? And why couldn't I push her away when she began positioning me on the couch, straddling my hips and stripping away clothing items, one-by-one?

What part of **girlfriend** did she not understand? For that matter… what part of **girlfriend** did _I_ not understand…?

As things usually do with me, the whole situation got out of hand, and before my conscience could even begin to kick in, this curvy woman was having her way with me… and I was going along with it all the way.

**to be continued…**


	2. Sam

**A/N: **This is part 2 of 4, and it's in Sam's point of view. **Warnings include: **sexual reference (no actual sex scenes, though), teenage alcohol use, some cussing, and violence.  
The OMC in this is the guy Carly is talking to. I didn't really create a guy, it's just an anonymous character, but whatever. And before you say Sam is OOC because of the cussing or whatever, I'm just going to say that I can imagine her to have quite a mouth on her when she's 18 and very angry... just saying.  
And to those reviewers who said things like, "wth Spencer, you could control your actions, you have a choice!" in part 1 - when you're that close to getting sex and your hormones are all raging inside of you, sometimes it's harder than it seems to push that person off of you, and it can be a lot easier to do something you're gonna regret. And that's a fact, trust me.  
If you read, let me know what you think!

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**But It Wasn't Just Jealousy  
Part 2**

The party was pretty lame. Me and Carly got there around 8 and we waited around, chilling out and talking to some of our friends, expecting it to get a little busier. There were maybe 10 people there, not including us, and a whole keg, plus a few bottles of vodka and some bottles of other random drinks. It had the potential to be an awesome party, but for some reason, basically no one showed up. We waited until 11:30, and there were only about 5 more people than there had originally been. The music was up and a few of the kids had gone to the back porch to smoke a joint or something, but other than that, it was dull. I decided to stop wasting my time. Carly was talking to a guy from school that she seemed to be interested in, so I figured she'd want to stay here for a while longer. I'd been drinking, and so far, I'd gotten 3 or 4 beers down, 2 shots of vodka, and a bottle of some clear drink that tasted fruity but still had that sting of alcohol in it. So, to say the least, I was feeling tipsy. I'd been way more drunk plenty of times before this, so this was on the more minor scale. However, I was bumping into a few more things than usual, and I didn't feel so uptight or awkward around the people that were at the party that I didn't know.

I knew this party was lame, though, and I was getting awfully lonely. All I could think about was Spencer, and how much I wished he were there with me. I finally decided to go back to Carly's whether she wanted to go with me or not.

I found her in the kitchen, leaning against a counter and chatting up that guy she liked, a cup of what I knew to be nothing more than water in her hand. She kept giggling at his every little joke, and he smiled, seeming pleased with himself. I walked up to them and interrupted, my half empty can of beer still in hand.

"Hey, Carls," I said. "I think I'm gonna head back to your place. This party is pretty lame, and I'm tired."

She looked over at me, nodding. "Okay. Do you want me to give you a ride?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'll get a cab or something… Can I borrow five bucks?"

She smiled, giving a small laugh at my familiar question. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled, five-dollar bill. "Sure. Here ya go."

I took it from her and shoved it in my pocket. "Cool. So I'll see you back there whenever you leave here?"

She nodded. "Yeah, probably in an hour or so. Be careful, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. Then, noticing the can in my hand for the first time in about 5 minutes, I brought it to my lips and tipped my head back, chugging down the rest of the bitter tasting beverage. Its taste didn't bother me anymore, though. I had at least reached that stage of tipsy.

When I brought the can back down and crushed it in my hand, I licked my lips, then noticed the wide-eyed look of astonishment on the guy's face as he stared at me.

"What?" I snapped, giving him an angry look. "Never seen a girl that can drink before?"

He put up his hands in surrender, shaking his head. "No, no, I was just… surprised, is all."

Carly giggled, and he chuckled, looking over at her. I raised an eyebrow, then turned around and tossed the empty can into the trash a few feet behind me.

"'Kay, well, see ya when ya get home," I told Carly, and turned around and went back into the living room.

I went to the hiding spot between the back of the couch and the wall where I'd put my jacket for safe-keeping. I grabbed it up and slipped it on, zipping it up to my neck. I then reached into the pocket and pulled out a pack of gum, putting two pieces in my mouth and beginning to chew them. I walked to the front door and opened it, a chilly burst of air hitting my face. It surprised me from the warmth I was used to inside, but it didn't affect me like it usually would without alcohol in my system. I shut the door behind me and left the front porch, walking down the dark street of the fancy neighborhood. The houses all looked the same, just different colors, and all the lawns were perfectly maintained and square. I tried to stay walking straight, but it was a little more challenging than I'd expected.

_Damn, I'm horny,_ I thought to myself. Alcohol tended to do that to me.

I walked the five blocks it took to get to a main street in the city, where cars and people were still bustling about at midnight. I felt like I could walk the rest of the way back to Bushwell, but I decided that would take too long. So, I walked about halfway down a block on the sidewalk before stopping and walking out to the curb. I looked both ways, then held out my hand, trying to hail a cab.

Within just a few minutes, a cab pulled up beside me, and I got in. "Bushwell Plaza," I slurred to the driver.

He sped off, and I watched out the window as the bright lights, dark buildings, and shady people of Seattle all became passing blurs. I chewed quietly on my gum until the flavor was mostly gone. I was feeling tired, and I knew I'd be ready to crash as soon as I got back to Carly's. I hoped Spencer wouldn't be in bed already, because I really wanted to fall asleep with him. That was my new favorite part of spending the night at the Shay loft.

The car ride felt like it took forever, and the cab driver seemed to take every turn sharply. I kept sliding across the leather seat, trying to hold on and stay steady. I was beginning to feel nauseous, and that was _not_ a good sign after I'd had alcohol and no solid food.

But finally, he pulled over and came to a slow stop at the curb in front of the tall Bushwell Plaza apartment building. I steadied myself, waiting a moment for my vision to stop spinning, before opening the door. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the five dollars Carly had given me, plus the ten dollars I'd already had and handed them to the driver. "Keep the change."

"Gee, thanks," he said sarcastically, taking it from my hand. I glanced at the meter and saw that it read $14.73. I scoffed.

Climbing out of the cab and standing up on the sidewalk was quite a task. But once I mastered it, I slammed the door shut behind me and the driver immediately sped off, leaving me wobbly. I regained my balance again, then walked towards the front doors. I looked up to where I knew the window to the loft was and saw that it was dark. I was disappointed, but hoped Spencer was just watching a movie or something, even though he usually didn't do that with the lights off. Maybe I could wake him up?

I entered the glass doors to the lobby of Bushwell and got a burst of warm air in my face. It stung against my red cheeks. The cab had been only slightly warmer than the outside temperature. I blinked and saw Lewbert sitting in his chair at the doorman's desk, leaning back with his eyes closed and mouth open, snoring loudly. I cringed at the sight of him. Then, out of habit, I pulled the chewed-up and flavorless blob of gum from my mouth and carefully stuck it to the top of his head, making sure it flattened out and stuck to as much hair as possible. Pleased, I smiled to myself, stepping back as he jerked and then went back to snoring obnoxiously loud.

I didn't even think about the elevator by the time I was heading up the staircase. I felt like walking in my tipsy state, for some reason. That's one way you can tell I'm inebriated: I'm actually inclined to do more physical activity than is necessary. Plus, I told myself it was better because I didn't want to scare or wake up Spencer with the loud rattling of the elevator.

When I reached the hallway, it was dimmed, so I held my hand out to steady myself against the wall as I walked down, then around the corner, finally reaching the Shay's apartment door. I glanced over, seeing Freddie's apartment door. I could hear a TV from inside, and I chuckled to myself, still finding it amusing that poor little Fredward couldn't leave the house because Mommy didn't like the idea of him being at a teenage party. Then again, I guess it would be kind of cool if he could go with us once in a while…

I stood in front of the large door and reached into my pocket, pulling out the key I had to the Shay loft. (I practically lived there, so why not?) Soft sounds of a TV came through the door, and I guessed Spencer was passed out on the couch. I focused on the lock, carefully slipping the key inside and turning it, trying not to act like a total retard with the key. When I heard the click of the lock, I pulled the key out and grabbed the knob, turning it and pushing the door open. The apartment was completely dark except for a very dim glow I saw coming from the direction of the TV. I reached to my right and slid my hand across the wall, finding the light switch and flipping it up. The loft immediately lit up, bringing every silhouette out of darkness. I pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped in, then froze.

I _thought_ I'd heard more than a TV when I was standing out in the hallway.

Sure enough, right before my own shaky vision, was Spencer… and some hussy. On the couch. Naked. Pressed together. Sweaty. And their faces looked about as shocked as mine as they stared up at me, frozen in their position – Spencer on top of the girl, her hand on the back of his neck, and both of their mouths hanging open in surprise. His face was flushed, and so was hers, and they had just become paler at the sight of me. I just stood in the doorway like a dumbass and stared, still in too much shock to comprehend much.

I sobered up pretty fast.

After what seemed like minutes and minutes of stiff tension hanging between us, but was actually only seconds, I found my voice. "What. The. Fuck."

"Sam… I-I… She…"

I narrowed my eyes at a flabbergasted Spencer, who couldn't form a comprehensive sentence to save his life. He kept stuttering, trying to find an excuse as to why he was missing all of his clothes and lying on top of this model-beautiful girl I'd never seen before. I swear, my heart stopped for those moments that he couldn't even find words to say to me.

"Okay, Sam… this isn't what it looks like… I can explain," he finally stammered, giving the same old clichéd lines guys always gave when they were caught whoring around on their women.

"Then… what is it?" I choked out, trying to keep from crying. I couldn't cry, not now.

He jumped up, grabbing up his boxers from the floor and sliding them on in one swift motion. He looked back up at me and began approaching me. "I… She came onto me. I don't know… We were watching a movie, and then she started getting closer, and I couldn't push her away, and when I tried, she just came back… and then my clothes were off, and her clothes were off, and she was right there on me, and…"

"And WHAT?" I demanded, anger building up, my voice finally firm. "She tripped and landed on your _dick_?!"

He stepped closer to me, but I stepped back and put my hand on the doorframe, trying to stay standing up. I felt like I was going to pass out at any moment. This was too much to take at once.

He stopped, wincing. I knew my face was fearful of him when he got closer to me, and he hated seeing that. I wasn't _trying_ to look scared, I just didn't want him touching me – not after being all over that _whore_.

He glanced back at the girl on the couch, who was sitting up now and covering herself with her hands, shock and questions on her face. I glanced at her, too, but then looked back at Spencer, my eyes still narrowed.

"_Well?_" I questioned.

I could see him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He stammered, "I… I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what happened…"

"UGH!" I squealed in frustration, throwing my hands up. "What do you _mean_ you 'don't know'? How can you not know how you ended up banging some whore on your fucking couch?!"

"Um, I'm not a whore…" the girl spoke up timidly from the couch.

My eyes shot to her and glared her down. I pointed with a threatening finger. "I don't wanna hear a fucking _word_ from you, unless you want your ass beat!"

She quickly shut her mouth and looked away, trying to avoid my glare. Maybe I didn't look tough, but I could throw that girl out the window before she even knew I had my hands on her, and I think she knew that.

I looked back to Spencer, whose eyes were pleading. "Please, Sam, just… I swear, it was an accident – it was a mistake. I didn't mean to. Please."

I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth, my fists clenching at my sides. I hadn't been this pissed off since I'd seen my dad hit my mom back in grade school. I hadn't wanted to beat the living hell out of someone this badly since then either. Spencer knew how my temper was, and he knew not to test me or push me any farther. But he'd never done something like this to me, either… and I never thought he would.

I guess I was wrong.

"Whatever," I finally muttered through gritted teeth, opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling. My fingernails were digging into my palms, almost breaking the skin, and my knuckles were completely white now.

"What – "

"WHATEVER!" I cried before Spencer could ask any more questions. "You wanna be with this slut, fine. Fucking _be with her_! I don't need you, Spencer!"

I looked back to his face to see the shocked and hurt look on it. I knew saying that would get to him, because he'd always felt like he wasn't needed, and I'd always been the person to convince him otherwise. A low blow, I know, but at this point, I didn't care.

"But… Sam…"

I glared at him, then grabbed at the necklace hanging from my neck – the one he'd gotten me – and ripped it off, throwing it to the ground. Then I spun around and marched out the door, wanting to get far away before I could connect my fist with that brunette's face. I was determined to keep myself from getting into another fight. It would be the third one this month, and I was trying to be a less violent person. So much for that, though…

Spencer chased after me and reached out, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him again. "Sam, don't leave. Please, we can talk about this, I swear – "

I shook his hand off of my arm and glared at him. "Talk about what? How great the sex was? Fuck you, Spencer."

He just stared at me, dumbfounded. I could see the tiny pools building up in the corners of his eyes.

I turned around again and rushed around the corner, blinded by my anger. My subconscious led me down the hall and down the stairs to the lobby, where I went straight for the doors and left the building as quickly as I could. The cold air hit my face, but I didn't even notice. I yanked my hood up over my blonde hair and tucked it into the hood, then jammed my hands into the front pockets of my jacket and kept furiously walking down the sidewalk, not even looking back. I was strong enough to get through this; I didn't _need_ him. I'd been hurt enough in my lifetime, I wasn't going to take it anymore. Not from him.

I wasn't sure of where I was going, but when I realized what direction I was walking in, I kept it up. I decided where I was going to go: back to the party. At the pace I was walking, I would make it there in half the time it took to drive there. And I knew what I was going to do: I was gonna finish off their supply of alcohol and forget everything. I was gonna pass out and wake up with a headache, and then I was gonna go home and ignore all of Spencer's phone calls and not leave my house for about three days straight.

No, actually, that didn't sound like a very good plan at all. Better yet… I was gonna get back at him.

Because this wasn't just about jealousy. Oh, no… This was about so much more now. Not the fact that I loved him, or that I couldn't even stand to see all the girls that were constantly hitting on him… Nor the fact that my lungs felt tighter and tighter the more that I thought about the image of him and that girl on the couch. This wasn't about how I was an insanely jealous person with more anger problems than most convicts. No… I could go on. I was going to make him regret _ever_ doing this to me.

This wasn't just about jealousy… It was about heartache and suffocation and _revenge_.

**to be continued…**


	3. Anger

**A/N: **This is part 3 of 4, and it's in third-person point of view, so you get to see inside the thoughts of all the characters. I jump between Spencer's location and Sam's location until they are conjoined, to avoid any confusion about that. **Warnings include: **sexual reference (no actual sex scenes, though), teenage alcohol use, some cussing, and violence.  
BIG NOTE on this one: **The OMC, Mike, is of my own creation.** I vaguely described him, and then I realized I was describing the bare essentials of someone I used to know, so I went into more detail, and he's basically based off of a real life person I used to know. So, don't take him. Period. Other than that, please enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think! It's almost over. =]

* * *

**But It Wasn't Just Jealousy  
Part 3**

Spencer stood frozen in the doorway of his apartment, one foot in the hall and the other in the loft. He stared at the spot where Sam had been just moments before. He was unsure of what to do now. Should he go after her? Should he let her go and expect her to come back and talk when she was ready?

But then he thought about it, and realized the latter wasn't such a good idea. Sam was an angry girl, and she wouldn't come running back to him to talk anytime soon. And even if she ever did, it would be too late by then. He had to go after her; he had to find her and try to explain and beg for her forgiveness… He had to put his love for her into words somehow, to try to make her understand.

He hated himself right now, though. What had he been thinking? It was just so hard to resist something like that when a half-naked girl is right on top of you, stripping your clothes off and kissing your neck in all the right places. But he had hurt Sam – he'd hurt her bad, and he could see it in her eyes. He'd never seen her look that angry before.

He turned around and slammed the door shut behind him. He was walking back towards his clothes when the glint of metal caught his eye, and he bent down and picked up Sam's necklace. He looked at it in sadness, then picked his clothes up from the floor and began putting them on, shoving the necklace into his pocket. He kept his face somber and his eyes on the current task. Heather sat at the couch, staring at him in shock.

As he buttoned his pants, he looked over at her. "What? Are you gonna get dressed or not?"

She stood up and gathered her clothes, slipping them on quickly. "I-I'm sorry, Spencer. I didn't know…"

He stopped and turned to her, staring straight into her green eyes. "Yes, you did. I told you I had a girlfriend, and you continued anyway. I don't know what the hell your problem is, or what is wrong with you, but I don't want to see you again… ever. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay away from my apartment and away from me and Sam."

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. She didn't know what to say, so she just mumbled, "Okay…"

He took a hold of her arm and led her to the door, opening it and pushing her out into the hall. She turned and looked at him, about to speak, but he interrupted her.

"Oh, by the way – welcome to Bushwell," he said flatly, resentment in his voice. Then, the door was slammed shut again. Heather winced against the sound, then turned towards her apartment, defeated, and went back. She'd have to start packing again tonight.

Spencer rushed around his apartment, finding shoes and throwing them on, then searching for his keys. But then he remembered he'd let Carly borrow the car, and she was still at that party.

"Crap."

Sam reached the party in what felt like no time. She'd thought to herself the entire walk there, scheming and cursing names. She didn't even know the name of that girl, but she hated her with a passion, and if she could get her hands on her, she knew she'd strangle her.

Without knocking, Sam pushed open the front door of the house and stepped inside, closing it behind her. The party had seemed to pick up after she left, because now it was bustling with twice as many kids as before. Guys and girls were drinking and playing card games, as well as beer pong, and making out on the couch. Laughter echoed throughout the room. More kids kept filing in from the front door.

"Sam!"

Sam spun to her left to see a boy walking down the stairs, eyes trained on her. He rushed over to her, a smile on his face.

"Oh, hey, Mike," she greeted, forcing a smile.

Mike was a kid she knew from school who seemed to have had a huge crush on her since he moved to Seattle freshman year. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and thick, dark eyebrows, plus naturally tan skin, and seemed almost awkward at most times. He was about 6 feet tall and came from Native American decent, which was obvious when you looked at him. He'd somehow always been at whatever party Sam was at, and had always been one of the first to get _very_ drunk, which was when he became extremely obnoxious. He flirted with Sam all the time – in school, at parties, when he saw her at Groovy Smoothie – and she was always trying to be nice and ignore him. She knew it was out of her character to try and be nice to someone; normally, she would've told him a long time ago to screw off and leave her alone, and if he didn't, she probably would've shoved him into the lockers more than a few times. However, as part of her effort to be less violent and nicer, she didn't do anything mean to the kid. She also found that she couldn't really bring herself to be mean to the kid, which was odd for her, seeing as she could be mean to just about anyone. He seemed so innocent, though, and almost helpless. He seemed inexperienced in everything that didn't involve drinking or playing drinking games, yet it seemed like he was hiding most of the experience he had in other places. He was always making really lame jokes, and often times, Sam felt embarrassed for him whenever he was in front of a group of people trying to be funny. He was always trying a little too hard to fit in, yet people hung out with him anyway, usually just because of his love for alcohol and his ability to get easy access to it. He was smart, but he didn't usually let on like he was. She almost felt bad for him, in a way. He always had that smile on his face when he saw her, and always had the same dumb crap to talk to her about.

This time, though, she was very happy to see him. He was a perfect candidate for her plan.

"What're you doing here? I saw Carly earlier, and I didn't see you. Did you just get here?" he started asking, bringing the red cup in his hand up to his mouth and taking a drink. His words were a bit slurred, and his breath smelled strongly of vodka and fruit juice.

"Uh, actually, I just ran home to get something," she lied. "But is there any beer or anything left?"

His face lit up. "There's a lot of stuff left. There's still vodka, and there's – "

"Get me some of that, would ya?" she requested, giving him as sweet a smile as she could manage.

"Okay. Do you want orange juice with it or like…"

"I don't care. You can put whatever juice you want in it. Just make sure that at least ninety percent of the drink is alcoholic," she instructed him. "I wanna get fucked up."

He smiled again and nodded. "Okay, yeah. I'll go get that. I'll be right back."

She watched him rush off to the kitchen, and once he disappeared behind a crowd of people near the fridge, she turned around and searched the many heads for Carly's. However, a vibration went off in the pocket of her pants, and she reached into it, pulling out her cell phone. Spencer's picture was displayed on the screen, as well as the name, "Spencer". She grimaced before tossing the phone to the floor, honestly not caring what happened to it. She knew it would be hard not to answer the phone after so many times, so she didn't even want it near her. She wasn't going to give Spencer the satisfaction of talking to her, or coming up with some lame excuse as to why he and this mystery girl were banging on the couch. She didn't want to hear it.

When she turned around, Mike was approaching her, a second red cup in his hand. He held it carefully, maneuvering around people and trying not to spill it. When he got to her, he held it out. It was filled nearly to the brim with orange juice, but it reeked like vodka. Sam gratefully took the cup and brought it to her lips, wincing against the taste but tipping her head back and chugging the entire cup.

Mike stared, wide-eyed, in amazement. "Um… You thirsty?"

When the last drop had immigrated down Sam's throat, she brought the cup back down and licked her lips. Almost immediately, the room began wobbling around her, and her head swirled with thoughts and emotions that she couldn't understand at such a high speed. She blinked, then looked back at Mike, steadying her eyes on him. He was looking really good now.

She smiled. "Yeah, I'm parched. Wanna get me another?"

He nodded, smiling again. "Yeah, of course! For a girl, you sure can drink…"

He took her cup and rushed back to the kitchen, returning less than a minute later with another cup just like the last one. She took it from him and drank about half of it in one swig, then looked at him expectantly. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," he told her. "So – "

"Hey, do you wanna go upstairs or something? I think I need to lie down," Sam suggested.

Mike's eyes widened, and he stopped talking abruptly. "Sure, if-if you want. There's an empty bedroom up there, I think, if you wanna go check it out…"

"Definitely," Sam replied immediately.

He held out his hand, and she took it with no hesitation, holding the cup in her other hand. He then led the way through the crowd, pushing around and past people, until he and Sam reached the stairs. He then let her go ahead of him, and he watched her carefully as she went up the stairs. He led her to the door at the end of the hallway on the second story, opening it and flipping on the light. He let her go inside, then followed her and shut the door, locking it.

Sam sat down on the big bed, sliding her hand across the flowery bedspread. She was pretty drunk by now, and everything in her vision was shaky. Mike sat down next to her carefully, turning towards her, still smiling. She looked back up at him and smiled.

"So… how are you and Spencer?" he asked casually, looking down at the cup in his hand awkwardly.

The name sent a jolt of pain through Sam. She winced, bringing the cup to her lips and drinking more to try to rid of the pain. When she finished off the drink, she held the empty cup in her hand, staring down at her lap. "We uh… broke up… I guess."

Mike raised his eyebrows, looking at her now. "You guess?"

She nodded, tossing the cup in the direction of the small wastebasket next to the door, but missing terribly only to have it bounce off of the dresser and fall to rest on the floor. She didn't even care, though – not that she normally would either.

"We're over. That's all," she slurred, blinking away tears.

"I-I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly.

_No, you're not,_ she thought to herself. But she said, "Yeah, thanks."

"So, you uh… looking now, or what? You just wanna stay single?" Mike started asking her. "That's what I'm doing… I figure it'd be easier to go to college wherever I wanted if I don't have any relationships here to worry about."

Sam nodded, looking up at the ceiling and sighing. "Yeah, I guess."

A few seconds passed in silence, and Sam was still staring at the ceiling, investigating the intricacies of the shapes she was seeing. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on the back of her neck, and she was being pulled forward. She looked to see Mike's face coming up fast, prepared to kiss her. There was something else in his brown eyes, but she ignored it, unable to properly interpret what it was in her drunken state. He had his hand on the back of her neck and was pulling her into him.

She was about to push him away when the image of Spencer and Heather on the couch came back to her mind. She felt anger flare up inside of her.

_Sam Puckett always gets her revenge,_ she reminded herself.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in the rest of the way, meeting his lips. They began kissing, deeper and deeper, and before she realized she was even doing it, her hands were tugging at Mike's shirt and the waist of his jeans. She wanted to turn her pain into pleasure as soon as possible.

Back downstairs, Carly had heard from someone that they'd seen Sam go upstairs with Mike, but she was sure Sam would be back at the loft by now. Nonetheless, she left the kitchen and began searching the living room, pushing past people and trying to find the blonde. She was a few feet from the door, turning around to go back to the kitchen since she had yet to find her best friend, when she felt something underneath her foot. It didn't feel like another person's foot, so she looked down and moved her shoe aside to see a cell phone – Sam's cell phone.

She quickly picked it up, noticing the screen read "23 missed calls", then jumped when it started vibrating in her hands. Spencer's picture appeared on the screen, so she pressed TALK and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Uh, no, Carly… What's going on, Spence? Why are you calling Sam, and why is her phone still here?" Carly asked.

She rushed back to the kitchen and went out the back door, standing on the back porch so she could hear better. She coughed at the cloud of smoke she walked into, waving it out of her face.

"I don't know. I was hoping she'd be with you," Spencer said. "But… it's a long story. I just need to find Sam."

"She went back to the loft like, an hour ago. Aren't you there? Is she not there yet?" Carly questioned, becoming worried. She hoped Sam hadn't decided to walk all the way back to Bushwell Plaza on the dark streets of Seattle.

"Yeah, she was here. But like I said, it's a long story. Just try to find her at that party, and if you do find her, keep her there till I get there," Spencer stated.

"Um… okay," Carly agreed, confused. "Is she okay, Spence?"

"I don't know," Spencer answered hesitantly.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Carly immediately snapped. Now she was worried.

"No, I – listen, if you find her, just make sure she doesn't get mad at anyone or try to beat anyone up. She's likely to go crazy on just about anybody right now, and she'll hurt them, I know she will. Please find her and calm her down. I'm getting into a cab right now and I'll be there in a little bit," Spencer explained.

Carly nodded. "Okay. I'll see you then."

She hung up the phone and stuck it in her pocket, then turned around and went back into the kitchen, pushing her way through the crowd of people to make it back to the living room. She looked around again, but to no success. So she started asking people if they'd seen her. Most of them said no, but she finally came to two people who said they had seen her.

"Where? Was she with anyone?" Carly questioned, having to yell over the loud music, laughing, and talking that filled the room.

"Um, I think she was with that Mike guy, the senior," the girl said. The boy with her nodded.

"They went upstairs. I remember him getting a really strong drink in the kitchen. Like, ninety perfect vodka and ten percent orange juice. He got her two cups, actually," the boy explained.

"Okay, thanks," Carly said, then rushed past them and through more crowds of people until she made it to the stairs.

Sitting in the cab, Spencer was almost shaking with anxiety. He was so worried about Sam. How could he be so stupid? He knew there was no way he could try to explain this or make an excuse for it, and he knew Sam had every right to be as mad as she was. But would she really go hook up with another guy at a high school party? And why? To get back at him? Or was she already ready to move on?

Thinking about Sam being with another guy, Spencer's anger began to build. He wasn't just angry about that thought – he was angry at Heather, who he wished he'd never let into his apartment, and he was angry at himself for being so easy. He made mistakes, but this was ridiculous. He didn't blame Sam for her reaction one bit. If anyone was to blame, it was himself for being so idiotic and making such a stupid mistake.

But he wasn't about to let go of Sam just like that. He wasn't going to let some sleazy teenage boy take advantage of the girl he loved, no matter how many mistakes he'd made. He was still determined to keep her safe, and at least try to keep her his.

Finally, the cab pulled up to the house, coming to an abrupt stop. Spencer handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill before rushing out of the car and running up to the front door of the house. He could hear loud music and voices from inside. He quickly turned the knob of the door and pushed it open to find a huge group of teenagers, all drinking and talking and laughing. He slipped inside and shut the door, then looked around, investigating the room. He looked for the staircase over all the heads of the kids. He found it almost immediately to the left of the front door.

He pushed his way through all the kids, ignoring the remarks of displeasure and drunkenness. He made it to the stairs and took them two at a time, reaching the top in seconds. There were a few kids scattered throughout the hallway, but they were all couples, talking or making out. To his surprise, he spotted Carly standing at the end of the hallway, motionless in front of a closed bedroom door. He rushed up to her.

"Carls, did you find her?" Spencer asked breathlessly.

Carly looked up at him, her face unsure. "Um… I don't know. I think so."

Spencer scrunched his eyebrows together, then looked at the door. A light was coming from underneath it, and he could hear some muffled sounds from inside. He recognized those sounds.

"Please tell me that's not Sam in there," Spencer muttered quietly, staring at the door with Carly.

Carly bit her lip. "There's only one way to find out…"

Spencer took a deep breath, blinking. He stepped forward and reached out, taking the doorknob in his hand. He slowly turned it and pulled it open.

He let out his breath in defeat, feeling his heart break inside his chest. He should've known.

"Sam!" Carly cried, now standing next to Spencer, staring at the same scene as he was, both of them in shock.

Spencer felt the anger rising in his chest, overtaking all the pain he felt. He'd never felt this angry before – he'd never experienced _jealousy_ like this – and he didn't know how to handle it. What he was seeing was the worst thing he could've imagined.

Sam stared back at the brother and sister from her half-naked position underneath Mike, who had stopped and turned his head to look also. She looked about to pass out, and Mike looked confused and scared, wondering why Carly and Spencer were staring at him and Sam. He was glad he had the blanket over the bottom halves of Sam and himself.

"The hell… I thought I locked that door," he mumbled to himself.

"Carls?" Sam replied, her voice almost listless. "S-Spencer?"

In that moment, realization dawned on Spencer, and he knew this wasn't just about Sam's jealousy, or his for that matter. This was her revenge.

**to be continued…**


	4. Revenge

**A/N: **This is the final part (_**the finale!**_) of this 4-part story. It's in third-person point of view again, so you can see pretty much into all the character's thoughts. I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and I really hope the ending doesn't disappoint you. But if it does, please feel free to tell me. Also, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. This story can probably get pretty confusing at times, so I wanna make sure everyone understands it. I also want to hear any and all thoughts you have on the story, positive or negative. **Warnings include: **sexual reference (no actual sex scenes, though), teenage alcohol use, some cussing, and violence. (The violence comes into play in this chapter.)  
Again, Mike is of my OWN creation, and I don't want anyone using him. Period. So is Heather, but I don't care as much about her. :]

* * *

**But It Wasn't Just Jealousy  
Part 4**

"What are you doing, Sam?" Spencer asked sternly, trying to keep his voice steady. For the first time since his mom had died, he felt like punching something.

Sam stared back at him dumbly, still unsure of exactly what was going on. When she realized Spencer had just walked in on her in bed with Mike, she felt no better. She'd gotten her revenge, but at what cost? The pain was only deeper now, as she saw the hurt in his eyes.

It must've been the same thing he'd seen in her eyes. And now she felt terrible.

"Spencer…" she choked out, her arms still loosely wrapped around Mike's neck.

Spencer didn't say anything, he just stared, his mouth hanging open a little bit – Carly's jaw was on the floor – and then his eyes narrowed. He stared at the Mike kid, imagining all the things he could do to him at that moment.

"What… why is he here?" Mike asked Sam, turning back to her.

"I… don't know," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

Then, before anyone knew what was happening, Mike was suddenly ripped off of Sam and thrown to the floor. He landed on the carpet with a thud. Blinking, he tried to understand what was going on while he pulled his pants up. But before he could even stand up, Spencer was on top of him. He shoved him back, pushing his back hard into the floor. Mike grunted, now lying on his back on the floor, Spencer on top of him, pinning him down.

"What the hell, man?!" Mike cried out.

But he was quickly shut up when Spencer grabbed a chunk of Mike's hair and brought his other fist to the boy's face. It connected with a painful punch, and before he could even recover, he was being punched again… and again… and again… and again.

Spencer couldn't stop himself now. With Carly and Sam watching in shock and awe, he pounded into Mike's face, still holding tight onto his hair to keep him steady. He was so angry and so upset. He was close to blacking out, but before he could get any closer to it or to hurting the boy more, Sam was behind him, grabbing him by the torso, trying her hardest to yank him off. She was in only her underwear and shirt, and she was still tipsy, but she was sober enough to find her strength.

"_STOP!_" she cried, frantic. She pulled on Spencer, but he kept pulling back, determined to remain on top of Mike and remain beating him until he was knocked out. Punch after punch, his anger was personified in the form of blood on his fist and tears on the boy's face. Mike couldn't even cry out anymore, he just grunted and cried, unable to get Spencer off of him. Spencer was stronger than he looked.

Carly rushed over to help Sam, grabbing the arm Spencer was using to punch Mike and pulling it back with all her strength. "Stop it, Spencer! _Stop!_"

With a cry of frustration, Sam finally yanked Spencer off of Mike and away from him. She pushed him across the room, trying to get him far away from the nearly unconscious body on the floor. She spun around and faced him, holding her arms out to try and defend Mike.

"_STOP IT, SPENCER!_" she screamed at him.

Spencer stumbled back, then stood still, blinking. He looked down at his sore fist to see it swelling up and covered in blood – but not his own blood. He looked back to Sam and Carly. Carly was on her knees on the floor next to Mike, trying to help him up and make sure he was okay, while Sam stood in front of them, her arms held out, afraid Spencer would try to jump him again. Her face was full of fear, and tears were running down her cheeks.

"Sam…" Spencer finally choked out.

"ARE YOU FUCKING _INSANE_?!" Sam cried.

A crowd had gathered outside the bedroom door now, watching the scene. They'd heard the loud noises of someone being thrown on the floor and rushed upstairs to see who it was. None of them knew who Spencer was, but they were afraid of him now. Most of them were staring at Sam expectantly, wondering why she was in the middle of all this.

"I… I don't know what happened. I just got so angry," Spencer said weakly, defeated and exhausted now, the pain still in his chest.

Sam calmed herself down, taking deep breaths. She stared at Spencer, searching his face. She knew he wasn't lying – he never would have normally done something like this; he wasn't a violent person. But something about seeing her with another guy had made him so angry and upset that it had overtaken him. He'd never reacted like this to any of his past girlfriends that cheated on him. So why was he doing it now? What was so different about her that it made him angry just thinking about her with another guy?

"I know…" she said quietly, tears still rolling down her cheeks, because she _did_ know. She knew what it was like to lose your temper and freak out and just want to beat someone's face in until they didn't even resemble a person anymore. "But you can't do this… It's not his fault."

Spencer stared at her, his eyes sad and begging her for comfort. Sweat ran down the side of his face.

"It's mine," she finally told him.

"What do you mean, it's your fault? This guy was on top of you and – " Spencer began to lose his temper again, pointing to Mike and thinking about what he'd just seen.

"No. Stop it," Sam demanded, and he shut his mouth, breathing in and calming himself again. "It's not his fault. I told him you and I broke up, and… and I wanted him to do that with me."

"Why?" Spencer asked, the tears showing through in his voice.

"Because! You _cheated_ on me, Spencer! How am I supposed to feel? Huh? What am I supposed to do when I walk in and find you fucking some girl I don't even know on your couch?" Sam cried.

Spencer blinked and used his clean hand to wipe at his eyes. He looked down, away from Sam's eyes. "I know. But I swear… I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, Sam…"

"I wanted revenge, Spence," she explained in a whisper.

He looked back up at her, surprised. "Revenge? For cheating on you…? So-so you came here and banged some high school boy?"

Sam sighed and looked down, resting her arms at her sides. "Yes. It was all I could think of… I was so mad. You don't even understand."

He was silent for a moment before saying, "I think I do."

She shook her head. "I-I saw you with that girl, and I flipped, Spencer. It's hard enough seeing all these girls that come onto you every single day, and then to walk in and find you with one of them? How do you expect me to react? You know how jealous of a person I am…"

He watched her, staring expectantly.

She took a breath. "But it wasn't just jealousy… I love you. I love you so much. And it hurt like nothing before to see you with her. Because… 'cause I thought you loved _me_."

Spencer's mouth dropped open. "Sam… I do. I'm so, so sorry for what I did. If I could take it back – well, I'd do anything to take it back. It was a huge mistake, and I know it was inexcusable. But it wasn't me… I wouldn't do that to you on purpose. I love you too much… I'm sorry."

Sam closed her eyes for a moment, trying to breathe steadily, but her lungs felt so tight. She opened her eyes again. "What do you want me to do? Am I supposed to trust you? Are you gonna do it again?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, never. I just want you to trust me - like you did before…"

She looked down at the floor, ashamed. She felt Carly's eyes burning into her back, as well as the rest of the party's. The house seemed dead silent now.

"I only did this for revenge," she muttered. "I'm sorry… I didn't know what else to do. I love you. I really do."

"I know. I can understand it… I messed up first. But-but I wanna make it up to you. I'll do anything, Sam," Spencer whispered, fighting down a knot in his throat. "_Anything_."

She raised her head again, tears still falling down her cheeks. "I couldn't ever let you go. I just don't want to be hurt again. Please, Spence… I love you, and I'd do anything for you. Please don't hurt me again."

He shook his head. "I won't, baby, I won't… I promise. I _swear_."

Sam sighed, exhausted. She looked behind her to see Carly still by Mike's side, but staring up at her with worried eyes. Mike had his eyes closed and his hands over his nose and mouth, half his face covered in blood, trying to steady his own breathing. She looked back to her boyfriend to see him suddenly holding his clean hand out, her broken necklace lying in his palm. He looked at her questioningly. She gazed at it, then smiled at him.

She knew none of what happened was about jealousy. It was about so much more. It was about something she couldn't explain, but that she felt completely. And it wasn't about revenge. She cared for Spencer so much, and he cared for her more than she even knew.

It was about love – it had always been about love.

**end.**


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